


To the Ends of the Earth

by exbex



Category: Sherlock (TV), due South
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post-Reichenbach AU of sorts/speculation.  Can be read with slash goggles on.  Plausibility ignored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Ends of the Earth

John is willing to play along. It doesn’t take a great deal of acting skills to mourn that empty coffin at any rate. He doesn’t waste any time or energy giving voice to his theories about the conspicuously missing bodies. But he’ll be damned if he’s going to bide his time on the streets of London or in the flat at 221B Baker Street.

Besides, he thinks with a grim smile, chasing Sherlock to god-knows-where has been what passes for normal in his life for the past few years, why should his alleged death cause him to do anything differently?

John’s respect for Mycroft is cemented the moment that black car pulls up and he slides into the back seat, passport and money waiting for him. Mycroft has probably never looked anything resembling haggard in his life, but he comes terribly close when he quietly says “Go find my brother, John.”

**

John doesn’t have Sherlock’s brilliant mind and amazing skills of deduction, so he goes with his instincts, choosing the least likely of places (well, perhaps second least-likely, John isn’t sure that he’s quite ready to navigate Papua New Guinea). John identifies the body of one James Moriarty for the authorities in Tuktoyaktuk. He stares at it for perhaps a bit too long, hoping that this will be the only waste of a brilliant mind that he sees today. They try to detain him in the town, citing the need to contact every authority on the planet that has cause for concern over the death of a terrorist, but when a thin, unassuming man takes him by the arm under the pretense of getting him some coffee, he finds himself being steered in the direction of a large vehicle. The man winks conspiratorially at him and soon they’re heading down a stretch of frozen road.

“You’re setting yourself up for some trouble, with the coppers back there” John can’t help but warn him.

The man gives a blinding, cheeky grin and says, in an accent that sounds more Chicago than Canadian, “Worth it. Trust me, I’ve been there. You’ve got chasing down my impossibly good-looking and crazy partner just so he can continue making my life completely insane because I don’t know what else I’d do with myself written all over you.”

John opens his mouth to ask how this man knows, but he can’t seem to find the words.

**

Sherlock should look a lot worse than he does, but instead he just looks incongruous, stirring a fire in a small stove, wearing denim and flannel. When he turns to John, the surprised look on his face rivals the one he wore a few years ago, in an empty natatorium. “John..”

“You have a hell of a lot to answer for, Sherlock Holmes.” John tries for angry, but the heat leaves his voice, replaced by an altogether different emotion. Suddenly they’re in an embrace, John burying his nose in Sherlock’s front and searching for a scent he hadn’t known he’d been missing.  
Sherlock is actually speechless, absently running his fingers through John’s short hair.

“I’ll get Mycroft on the line.” John jerks back at the sound of the man’s (Ray, he had said his name was Ray), and begins to ask how on earth he knows, but thinks better of it, letting his head fall back against Sherlock. “I’ll come get you guys in a few hours, or days maybe.” Ray gives them a cheeky grin and disappears, closing the door behind him.

Sherlock pulls them both down onto the small bed, wrapping them in wool blankets. John fights sleep, wanting to catalogue all of the changes in Sherlock’s face, but he loses the battle, eyelids closing of their own volition, willing the world to ignore them for just a little while.


End file.
